All That Glitters
by kerithwyn
Summary: It's showtime. A band AU.


All That Glitters

Fandom: Fringe

Characters: a Lincoln, a Liv, an Astrid, a Nick, and a Charlie

Rating: G

Summary: It's showtime.

Notes: Written for trope_bingo 2013: au: band. On seeing my card, Elfin said: _Lincoln glam rock_, please. Helpless, I heard and obeyed. I might also have rewatched _Velvet Goldmine_ for, ahem, "research."

* * *

Lincoln checked his eyeliner in the mirror, but it was perfect. Nina Sharp did brilliant work. He grinned into the reflection at his hair, always reaching new heights.

"Hey, pretty boy," a gravelly voice came from the doorway. "Got some visitors here to meet you. Contest winners."

Charlie's voice remained perfectly civil, though Lincoln knew he'd just as soon show the interlopers the exit. He'd been the band's road manager for years and no one could be more protective of their privacy.

"S'okay, Charlie, send 'em in." The invitation proved unnecessary; two heads were already peeking around the doorframe despite Charlie's blocking arm.

"Three minutes," Charlie said sternly, as much to Lincoln as the fans. "Gonna go poke Liv."

Lincoln made a shooing motion. "I got them."

The teenaged fans-Emily Mallum and Sean Keenan, by their name tags-inched cautiously inside the room, looking around with wonder. The riot of color and glitter would dazzle anyone who wasn't immersed in it day in and out.

Lincoln flashed his friendly, hey-we're-all-just-folks-here smile. "What contest was it?"

"Radio call-in," Emily said, and Sean nodded. The girl looked more goth than glam, but the concerts drew all types. "Fringe Division is my favorite band!"

"_The Pattern_ is your best album yet," the boy said solemnly. "Would, um, you tell Ms. Farnsworth I think she's brilliant?"

"She is brilliant," Lincoln replied, smiling. "But I'll tell her." He leaned forward confidentially, his silvery jumpsuit crinkling slightly as he moved. Anything he said would hit the feeds the moment they left the room, but it always made fans happy when they thought he was sharing a secret. "We're debuting a new song tonight. It's called 'The Transformation.'"

Two pairs of eyes opened even wider. "That's the next in the sequence, isn't it?" Sean said excitedly.

Lincoln winked but didn't answer. He didn't need to. A number of their songs were layered with a complex, esoteric ongoing story, the meaning decipherable only by the most devoted listeners. It was more than half marketing gimmick, of course, but Linc and Liv and Nick and Astrid had constructed a narrative and carefully doled it out a little at a time.

His ear cuff chimed, warning him that the concert was set to start imminently. No reason to keep the crowd waiting. "Listen for it. Third song in. Which should be in..." he glanced meaningfully at the clock, "about twenty minutes or so."

"Oh!" Emily looked both excited and disappointed that her moment was over so soon. "But, um. I just wanted to tell you..." she took a deep breath. "You're beautiful!"

Lincoln carefully bit back a laugh. "Thank you," he said, as gently as he could, the way he always did. He glanced around and spotted a small box. "Here, something for you."

He handed a souvenir to each of them, a small amber tetrahedron with four signatures laser-inscribed, one on each side along with their personal glyphs: Lincoln Lee, Liv Dunham, Nick Lane, Astrid Farnsworth. Despite their publicist's pleading these were made only for backstage visitors, a definitively exclusive memento. Surprisingly, almost none of them ended up on eBuy.

Charlie reappeared in the doorway, glaring pointedly. "Time's up," he growled. "Let's get you two back to your seats."

He handed the fans off to a waiting roadie and turned back to Lincoln. "They're waiting for you. As usual."

Lincoln stretched, dawdling just another moment to get under Charlie's skin. "Hey, you know, every minute spent with a fan is worth a truckload of publicity. That's what Markham swears, anyway."

"Got a couple thousand truckloads out there if that's true," Charlie said dryly.

"Point taken." Lincoln headed out toward the stage, pleased that his steps were steady in his platform shoes. Nina did the band's costumes along with their makeup, new variations on a theme every week. Their shoes, like their hair, sometimes defied physics.

Lincoln spotted Olivia first, peering through the curtains at the rumbling crowd. Liv Dunham, "Red" to the fans, had an uncanny instinct for judging an audience and would subtly guide the performance to make the best impact. Her black leather pants and white ruffled lace shirt were set off by a dark blue glittery jacket, short in front and long in the back.

He eyed her costume jealously and wondered if he could convince Nina to let them trade outfits for the next concert.

"How do they look?" he asked.

"Shiny. But not as shiny as you," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"No one's as shiny as Lincoln," Nick said as he joined them at the edge of the stage. He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. "Astrid's coming out in a minute."

Nick wore a mirror image to Liv's costume, and it looked just as good on him. He'd also let Nina have her way with the face paint. A streak of red and gold ran down his forehead and across one eye, following the curve of his cheekbone.

"Olive, don't forget, we changed the set list," Nick continued. "It's-"

She rolled her eyes at him. "New song third, I remember. You just remember not to steal my spotlight."

"Bickering as usual," Astrid said from behind the three of them. "What are the odds."

Astrid wore her customary pseudo-military ensemble. The red highlights in her curly hair caught the light, but otherwise she insisted on keeping her appearance subdued. "No one comes to see the drummer," she always claimed. Lincoln reminded himself to pass on Sean's compliment after the show.

Lincoln nodded to the stage manager to start the show. They always went onstage to one of the classics, a tribute to the artists who'd paved the way. Today the first unmistakable chords of the T-Rex anthem rang out and the audience's screaming reached a new pitch.

"Sing with me," Lincoln demanded, and they all sighed and did, just like always, through the first verse.

_Friends say it's fine, friends say it's good_

_Everybody says it's just like rock n' roll_

_I move like a cat, charge like a ram_

_Sting like a bee, babe I wanna be your man_

_Well it's plain to see you were meant for me,_

_Yeah I'm your boy, your 20th century toy_

"Showtime," Liv said, raising her eyebrows with a saucy grin.

Astrid crossed the stage first, head down as usual, shutting out everything around her as she headed toward her beloved drum kit. She'd come alive during the show, banging out rhythms that kept the rest of them in sync.

Nick also transformed on stage, feeding off the energy of the crowd and sending it back with smiles and power chords. Initially uncomfortable with all the attention and glitz, Nick had blossomed into a consummate performer...as long as he had time to privately decompress before and after gigs. Charlie was instrumental in keeping the paparazzi away. Besides, Lincoln and Liv enjoyed keeping the reporters entertained.

Part of that entertainment included fueling the constantly shifting speculation about who in the band was dating whom. One week it was Lincoln and Liv, the next week Liv and Nick. The band took full advantage of the speculation, flirting with each other on stage. The week Lincoln went to his knees and made sweet vocal love to Nick's guitar, Nick's hips thrusting forward with every riff, they'd dominated the news feeds. Even Astrid got into the action, shooting a shy wink toward her bandmates to be discovered during the inevitable slo-mo analysis of the band's every move. They'd all been tickled by the rumors of secret marriages between the four of them in every combination, and the persistent whispers of a full-on foursome.

The truth was for no one but themselves and their handful of longtime associates.

Charlie and Nina. Walter Bishop, caravan master and cook. Peter Bishop (no relation), equipment manager and technician. General manager Phil Broyles back in Boston, constantly wheelin' and dealin' for the best venues and contracts. Henry Higgins, the RV driver.

Family, all of them.

Liv sauntered out next, her bass thrumming along with the classic song. She'd taken her inspiration from Suzi Quatro, fearless and unapologetic. The crowd noise hit another ear-piercing high, only their noise-canceling ear cuffs saving them from permanent damage.

Lincoln gave her a beat or two before following. A shower of glitter greeted his entrance, dusting the stage and the audience. It caught on the Massive Dynamic logos on the band's equipment and in everyone's hair and costumes, guaranteed souvenirs of the show for days afterward.

The lights weren't shining in his eyes and the mic stood at just the right height. Peter took care of everything.

Lincoln grinned out at the crowd and began to sing.

* * *

Lincoln is wearing Brian Slade's jumpsuit from_ Velvet Goldmine_; Liv and Nick are wearing the Goblin King's coat from _Labyrinth_. :D


End file.
